


The Heartbreak Wait

by seriousfic



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy waits for Harley like the sun waits for what it’s shining on to bloom, or like a plant waits during winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heartbreak Wait

Ivy hefted the ax and tried not to think about how its weight was different from a mallet, yet so much alike. Similar handle, similar distribution. It was only at the end that they really diverged.  
  
“Sorry about this, beautiful,” she said to the tree. “But it’s for a good cause.”  
  
The tree’s branches stirred in the breeze from the open window, the cold night wind that seemed to blow through most of the day. It was so hard to find sunlight and warmth in Gotham, where such things had been buried in concrete and flesh. But she made do, her and her babies. This was where the fight was, and the greenhouse was her outpost.  
  
She swung, hard. Hit. When she pulled the axhead out there was a scar in the tree trunk. It didn’t whine in pain or bleed like an odious mammal, it just stood there, its beautiful symmetry disturbed. She swung again, harder. The axhead went deeper this time, violating the wooden harmony of the tree. Tears in her eyes, Ivy swung a third time. The ax went deeper than it had ever gone, verging on the core, and something ectoplasmic seeped out of the raped wood.   
  
Ivy smelled it, as sweet as any perfume. The experiment had worked. Any logger trying to cut down her beautiful, modified trees would smell his own death. It was extraordinarily carcinogenic. She only wished she could make it seek out the people who ordered those landscapes to be despoiled. Well, that was another battle for another day.   
  
“It’ll take a while, but once they make the link you can bet they’ll get squeamish. I don’t have to change every tree, just enough. We can start with the clear-cutting in Brazil and then…”  
  
This was where Harley was supposed to make some dumb joke or hug Ivy or suggest milkshakes to celebrate, Ivy picking up the tab of course. But Harley wasn’t there. Harley was with  _him_ , being the beard in the clown’s homoviolent obsession with the Bat. It was so petty and stupid that Ivy gnashed her teeth. Couldn’t that stupid little moppet see that there was a war going on? Ivy needed her!  
  
Ivy went to tend to her flowers. That always made her feel better. Besides, Harley would be back. She always came back. She’d get into a fight with the Joker or the Joker would be thrown in Arkham (after being beaten thoroughly by the sometimes-useful Batman, Ivy thought with a smug smirk) and then she’d come running in, tears washing away that ugly greasepaint. And Ivy would enfold Harley in her arms and her words and her love, and give birth to her anew as a child of the earth, beautiful and proud and strong.  
  
And this time, it would take. Ivy would be kind and sweet and nice and spoil Harley rotten, never get angry at her or snap at her no matter how dumb she was, and Harley would see, she  _would_ , how much better Ivy was for her than that fucking clown was. She’d see how Ivy nurtured her, protected her, loved her.  
  
Was in love with her.  
  
Any minute now, Harley would run in through the door, or the window, and things would be different.  
  
Any minute now.  
  
Any…  
  
“You won’t leave me, will you?” Ivy asked as she watered a lovely flower.  
  
A petal fell off.  
  
Of course. Winter was coming and someday Harley wouldn’t come back, she’d die like all the other victims who got between Batman and Joker’s bloody courtship. And Ivy would fight her war alone. And that’d be alright. Really, it would. She’d have the plants and the soil and the sun, and so she wouldn’t even be cold at night. She wouldn’t even have nightmares of razed forests and spilled oil and the Joker’s hands on Harley’s virgin body. She would be fine. Just fine.  
  
“Red?” the voice was weak and small, a seed needing water. Ivy spun, so fast, to see Harley limping in through the front door, dragging her mallet behind her. It was cracked at the neck, partially distending the head, which broke off entirely as Harley crossed the threshold. “I’ve been in a fight.”  
  
Ivy ran to her and caught her, wiping away her tears and her blood and her make-up. Underneath it, Harley really was quite lovely. She just needed to bloom.  
  
“I’ve got you,” Ivy said. “You don’t have to worry, I’ve got you now.”


End file.
